Beauty From Pain
by only-because3
Summary: Now people look at her differently. Some with judgment, others look at her with confusion, and then there are the rare few who look at her with pity and sadness, the select few who know what happened. Nine Crimes Sequel!
1. Chapter 1

Hey everyone! So I've currently been majorly grounded so I apologize for the lack of updates on Always Love, Something to Believe In, and the fact that this hasn't been posted sooner. So this is going to end up being a two parter and I have to say that I'm going to try REALLY hard to get this story to end in a happy place. But as of late I've been feeling kinda down in the dumps and trying to turn this story into something happy is proving to be difficult, especially since this is such an emotional subject. OKay, I've rambled long enough! I hope y'all enjoy this part!

* * *

Everyone used to know Brooke Davis. She'd prance around school in tight shirts and short skirts with her perfect body, making boys drool and girls jealous. She'd insult someone who looked at her the wrong way and laugh at a joke one of her fellow cheerleaders made even if it wasn't funny. She'd soak up the constant attention like a sponge and was proud of her 'Queen Bee' title. Now, Brooke Davis is rarely seen at school. She lurks through hallways in old jeans and oversized sweatshirts. Now people look at her differently. Some with judgment, those are the ones that can't believe she'd hook up with her best friend's ex, especially since they are so clearly 'meant to be'. Others look at her with confusion, unsure and ill informed of why she is no longer the cheerleader everyone loved to hate and the social butterfly everyone knew her as. And then there are the rare few who look at her with pity and sadness, the select few who know what happened.

Brooke Davis used to love being looked at. Now she hates it. Although, she seems to hate everything now. She hates how she looks; like a bloated train wreck who doesn't get enough sleep and will occasionally have wet stains on the front of her shirt from the milk that has been slowly leaking out for the past month. She hates how she feels; like a numb bitch who can't careless about anyone. She hates how people look at her since, really, no one understands the depth of what happened. She hates how people talk about her; like she is this ghost who can only be whispered about. She hates how her parents haven't seen her in almost eight months and have absolutely no clue what happened to her.

She hates how every time she sees _her_ walk down the hall, apologies form on her lips yet they never seem good enough so she keeps her mouth shut. She hates how every time she sees _him_ walk down the hall she wants to hit him for doing this to her, for ruining her life and carrying on with his. He's managed to gain status of co-captain on the team and from what she's heard, he and Peyton had reconciled, the douche bag.

But then, there's that small tug inside her that just wants to have him whisper those sweet lies in to her ear and wrap his arms around her.

She sighs and curls a little further into her seat, finishing the homework due next period. Haley sits down next to her, eyeing the brunette cautiously. Brooke sees her open her mouth slightly and before any words can be said, Brooke mutters "Fuck off," and continues to do her homework.

"Brooke." Her name comes off almost helpless and it seems fitting. She is helpless. She looks up at her ex-roommate with unamused blank eyes. She cocks an eyebrow as if daring Haley to say more and when she doesn't, Brooke returns to her work. Before getting up, Haley shakes her head. Brooke knows that it's out of frustration and maybe a little bit of sadness but like it was said before, she really can't careless.

* * *

Lucas sits in front of his open locker in the white towel he brought from home. He had had another grueling practice and the shower had only taken a little of the hurt off of his aching muscles. The rest of the team had already gone home leaving him alone in the locker room. He sighs halfly before standing up and getting dressed. It's almost time for dinner and he really should hurry up but what's the point?

Over the past month he's thrown himself into everything he possibly could so he could stop thinking about what had gone on between Brooke and him. But it's when he's alone like this with his thoughts that it all comes rushing back. It's always then that he starts imagining what color eyes he would have had or what color hair she would have had.

* * *

Haley's come over for dinner again, the twelfth time in the past month. Though she doesn't say anything to Karen, she notices. She's begun to tell him to take it easy and that he's pushing himself too hard, but that's it. She isn't as aggressive as Lucas knows she can be and the only reason she's not is because she was there. She had been the one to pull Brooke off the floor and get her dressed. She had been the one who cleaned up the broken glass and who searched that small apartment from top to bottom for that small flimsy piece of paper with the gray scatter plot image. She'd been the one to find him at the rivercourt, dunking the orange ball into the hoop and landing on his knees so they bled after he had left Brooke's. She was the one who had let him cry on her shoulder and the one who covered for him when his mother got suspicious.

Haley got it. She understood. But that didn't stop her from worrying. "How was school today?" The two teens look up from their plates and place their eyes on Karen who sits across from them, her fork spearing a piece of broccoli.

Like always, Haley goes first. "I got a B on my trig test. Very disappointing especially since it was 89 out of 100. One stupid point away from an A." Karen smiles in that polite way Lucas knew she would. It's the only thing that stops her from calling Haley crazy.

"And what about you Luke?"

He looks back down, swirling his mashed potatoes around before scooping some up. "Same old same old," he says with a shrug before adding, "practice was tough," just to ensure his mom wont question him. Karen smiles at him in the same way she did to Haley. She knows something's up but she'll wait until he tells her.

Looks like she'll be waiting a while.

* * *

He knocks on the door a couple of times without getting an answer. He knows she's home, her VW bug is parked in the parking lot around back. He pulls out his key ring and puts Haley's old key into the lock and turns it, opening the red door with the golden knocker. The whole apartment is dark and silent but he already knows where she's at.

He walks into the doorway leaning on the white frame as his eyes adjust to focus on her in the dark. "Why do you torture yourself like this," he asks. She sits against the far wall of the bedroom, her eyes fixed on the almost empty cork board.

"Go away Nathan," she whispers in the silence as she pulls her knees towards her chest. He dismisses her words and enters the room, sitting down next to her. "I said go away."

"The only person as stubborn as you is me Davis. I'm not going anywhere." She scoots a little to the left, putting a little more space between them but not objecting to anything more. "Ya know," Nathan starts in order to break the silence, "it's not going to show up. No matter how much you stare, it's gone."

"Shut your mouth," she retorts, her voice louder than he's heard in a while.

"It's true whether you want to admit it or not," he pushes, his eyes fixed on her as she gets up.

"Shut up," she exclaims louder as she tries to get further away from him. "Get the fuck out Nathan!" He sighs and almost shakes his head. He wants to stay, to tell her that yelling wont help it hurt any less but then Haley's voice plays in his head. It tells him to stop being an insensitive jerk and give her time. A month isn't going to help her get over what's happened. So, he stands up and brushes imaginary dirt off of his jeans. Shoving his hands in his pockets he mutters, "Fine," and leaves the apartment.

When she hears the door slam, she creeps to the living room, sliding the chain across its clasp, locking her in from the rest of the world.

* * *

Peyton stands next to her car, looking around for the one thing she can barely stand yet can't live without. She tosses her half smoked cigarette to the ground and steps on it to make sure it goes out. It's Saturday and she would normally be in her room drawing away at her latest emo picture. But the past two weekends she's made an exception.

Lucas pulls up next to her and cuts the engine of his old beat up truck. He steps out and gives her a curt nod before beginning their walk to their destination. When they reach her mother's gravestone, Peyton drops down next to it, sitting Indian style as she looks through her bag. He stays standing for a few more moments before sitting next to Peyton. "How was your week," she asks as she pulls out her sketch pad, flipping open to one of her current work-in-progresses.

"Hard," he mumbles. "Does it ever get easier?" He looks at her with heavy eyes, hoping for an answer that would make it better.

"No," she responds, her answer not the one he was searching for. "But over time you just think about it less."

The wind picks up a little, the few leaves that are left on the trees holding on for dear life. "I don't think I can do that." He pulls out his book from his back pocket and opens it up. His bookmark is starting to look worn and it worries him. It's liable to rip soon and he can't let that happen. So, he carefully takes out his wallet and slides the filmy piece of paper into it, making a mental note to take it out when he got home.

"Sure you can," she adds," but only when she can too."

* * *

She walks down the hallway Monday morning during her free period, her eyes planted on the ground. She counts each step she takes from Ms. Dasani's room to her locker, something she's done numerous times. The number usually stays the same, thirty six, but sometimes it changes. Sometimes it's thirty two and other's it's thirty eight and it makes her smile every time it's not thirty six. Because then in some small way she's proving Nathan wrong. She can stare at the ground and facts will change.

When she gets to her locker she pushes her grown out locks behind her ears and quickly does her combination. Six to the right, nine to the left, two to the right and her lock pops open. She pulls out her Calculus book and holds it underneath her arms as she takes out a tattered copy of 'Oedipus the King'. She flips through the pages mindlessly until she hears heavy foot steps on the scuffed linoleum. She looks up and there he is, reminding her all too much of the first day of school.

She opens her mouth slightly before closing it and swallowing hard. They stare at each other for a good two minutes before his eyes stray to his book. SHe follows his eyes and bends the softbound book in half before tossing it to him.

It falls a little short, landing three steps from his feet. He doesn't reach for it, not until she turns and walks away. He wants to tell her that he took it but he can't. Because that means he'll have to give it to her and he's not sure he can do that either.

* * *

His mother's getting more suspicious as time goes on. Another month has passed and it's nearly Christmas before she says anything. "You've changed these past few months," she says lightly as they're decorating the nearly perfect tree they had picked out earlier that day.

He sets his favorite ornament, the white rocking horse with blue trim, on a branch before looking up at her. "Have I," he asks, trying to make it seems like it wasn't as obvious as it was.

"Yeah, you have." She doesn't say more, instead waits for him to continue. When he doesn't, she lets out a breath and takes a sip of hot chocolate. "Lucas, you know you can tell me anything."

He nods. "I know Ma."

He can't tell her this.

* * *

Christmas in California is nothing like Christmas in Tree Hill. In Tree Hill snow is on the ground and everyone is bundled up, singing carols or making snow men. They rush around doing last minute shopping and go home to their families and drink hot chocolate as they sit by the fire. The whole house smells of pine, their freshly cut trees decorated with hundreds of sparkling lights and ornaments.

In California the weather is a balmy 65 degrees. People brush past you and yell to move out of their way when walking down the street. Carolers are only found at Christmas parties. Fake trees in each room are decorated specifically so that ornaments and lights are in neat rows. Brooke's dad is still never home and Brooke's mom sits by their fireplace drinking vodka.

She doesn't really know why she came out. Being in California is almost as bad as being in Tree Hill. In Tree Hill she just locks herself in her apartment. In California her parents make her go to countless parties and the constant fake smile she wears is starting to hurt her cheeks.

She leans against the black bar, waiting for the bartender to finish her drink. The only good thing about these parties is the free booze. She looks around the crowded party, trying to find the location of her parents. Five more minutes and she's done. She'll down her drink, go home, and curl into her bed underneath her heavy down feather blanket. Tomorrow's Christmas and all she wants to do is never wake up.

The bartender places her gin and tonic in front of her and she finishes it in three gulps before slamming it back down on the counter.

* * *

Christmas morning has always been the same for Lucas. He'd wake up at 6 and stumble into the living room, and wait patiently on the couch for his mom to wake up. When she'd walk into the living room five minutes later, she'd perch herself on the edge of the couch and smile before telling him to open his presents.

The routine has changed a little since he's gotten older. He and Karen wake up at virtually the same time now. He always puts wood into the fireplace and starts a fire before he even goes over to his presents. Karen still perches on the edge of the couch and smiles at him to open his gifts.

This year is different. He doesn't want to get out of bed but he knows that he will in a few more minutes so that his mom won't worry. He lays on his bed staring at his plain white ceiling that has one small crack in it. He closes his eyes and tries to remember when that crack first appeared. He wants to believe it happened sometime during his high school career but he thinks it happened even more recently. He squeezes his eyes tight and then it hits him.

The first time he saw the crack was when he broke up with Peyton. He remembers in getting slightly bigger the night after he slept with Brooke and right now it looks like it's grown a little since then.

He hears the floorboards creak and in exactly three seconds his mom's head pops into his room. "You awake?"

He lets out a strangled 'Yeah' before crawling out of bed. His mother smiles at him before continuing her walk to the living room, expecting him to follow. He stops at his dresser, wanting so badly to reach for that filmy piece of paper that was tucked away in an envelope underneath his T-shirts. He sighs and keeps walking because he knows he can't.

* * *

It's 3 am and even though she had only planned on staying out for five more minutes, she stayed out for five more hours. She stumbles back into her shiny new house without her parents on the very beginnings of Christmas. She hadn't seen her father since they got to the party and she had found her mother cock deep in some man who wore a stupid holiday tie. That definatly caused her to drink about 100 more drinks.

Her heels hang around her wrists by their straps, her tube dress inching down her body. She closes the door hard, the sound echoing in the big empty house. She starts to laugh, that low laugh that isn't produced by something funny. It's the sad laugh that almost leads to crying, the one let out just before you meet your wits end. She sniffs lightly in the dark and begins her walk upstairs when her foot hits a box.

"Shit," she says, bringing her foot up and squeezing it to try and relieve the pain. She turns on her heel and uses the railing to ease herself down on the maple steps. Her eyes adjust to the darkness and once the throbbing in her toe stops she picks up the Fed Ex box and holds it in her small hands. She stands up and walks into the dinning room, flipping on the light switch. She blinks a few times to get use to the light and reads the label to see who it's to.

To: Brooke Davis

273 North Harbor Drive

San Diego, California

92122

Return Address: Tree Hill, North Carolina

She blinks again to try and rid the shock of seeing Tree Hill as the return address. She leaves the box on the table and goes into the kitchen to grab a knife from the wooden block on the counter. She walks slowly back into the dinning room and slices open the box before putting the knife down. She moves back the flaps and digs through the packaging peanuts, a present underneath the white fluffs. She pulls it out, the feather light box wrapped in shiny red wrapping paper with small bounds of holly printed on it.

She runs her fingers over it gently, outlining the design before taking a deep breath. She turns with the box still in her freezing hands and walks out on to the deck right outside the dinning room. She takes another breath as she lifts up the top of the box, and looks down at the present amidst the white cotton.

* * *

He lays in his bed, tired from the events of the day but not tired enough to sleep. After his morning ritual with Karen he walked over to Nathan's to give Haley the presents his mom had sent over. They had all sat in the kitchen munching on cereal and not doing much talking at all. Then around noon they all drove back over to Lucas' for Karen's big Christmas lunch. There had been, of course, more small talk and holiday movie watching until 7 when Haley and Nathan decided to go home.

And in his bed he's been laying since 8. He hasn't done much at all, just rolled over a few times and attempted to read the new book Karen had given him. The older woman has been asleep since 8:30 and he truly wishes he could enter that beautiful escape where the pain of what's happened can't haunt him.

His phone vibrates on his night stand and he almost doesn't pick it up. "Hello," he answers moodily, upset with whoever's on the other line even though he's still almost perfectly awake.

"Don't sound so bitchy. I know it's semi late but I just wanted to say Merry Christmas and tell you that I've got a present for you."

"Merry Christmas and you really didn't need to get me a present."

"Oh I know, you totally don't deserve it," Peyton says amused, "but you need it."

They hang up a minute later and he's left in his bed surrounded by noisy silence once more. It's moments like this when he's alone with his thoughts that it all comes rushing back. It's when he can't shut up his mind and it runs rapent that he starts remembering things he just wants to block out.

The knock on the door jolts him, saving him from himself. He climbs out of bed, pushing his thick blanket to the foot of the bed. He grips the door knob and pauses for a second, wondering if he should check to see who's there. He shrugs before opening the door to see Brooke on the other side.

"Brooke?"

It reminds him all too much of the night they slept together. She looks like she could start crying at any moment but instead of looking sad like before, she looks angry. "How could you give me it then take it away!" She's practically screaming at him and he wonders if the neighbors can hear her. "After what had happened to me you just took it! The only fucking thing I had left!"

"It didn't _just_ happen to you Brooke! I was there! That was my bab-"

"Don't you say that! Don't you dare say that word," she yells, cutting him off. "You may have been part of it but it did not happen to you! You didn't see or feel the blood. You didn't have to lie on that table with your legs spread so they could empty you! So don't give me that shit!" She's pointing at him angrily and he's worried that she'll start hitting him again. His eyes travel to her other hand, the ultrasound in between her fingers. The rest of her body is so tense that that hand looks out of place. It's almost limp but she's holding on to that filmy piece of paper with enough force so it wont fly away or crumple.

"You make it seem like I don't care about any of this," he whispers helplessly, letting his head drop a little before looking back up at her.

She has to have heard him and truth is she did, but she ignores it. "Merry fucking Christmas Lucas Scott," she says, unzipping the sweatshirt she wears and throws it at him.

She turns and leaves, running back to her car and driving away. He looks down and realizes it's his sweatshirt.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everyone! OKay so incase this wasn't clear THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO NINE CRIMES! And yes, I've changed the title lol. I was listening to Beauty From Pain by Superchick and I just realized it was such a better fit than 'Anyone Want To Take Me Home?'. Anyway, I'm really not sure how I feel about the Lucas scene in this but eh, I've done what I can lol. Also, this story is gonna be a little longer than I originally thought. SO big thanks to Lynn for helpin me sort everything else and to Emma cause.. well she's just awesome.. plus we're the Angst Patrol lol. Thank you all for your reviews and I hope y'all enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

He ignores everything. His mother's knocking, his cell phone's vibrations, Haley's concerned speech from outside the door. He ignores Peyton when she walks in, waving a large manilla envelope in front of his face.

"Hey, you alive?" She leans above him, checking his pupils and the color of his skin. She puts a hand on his forehead before sighing and standing up straight. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's not," he questions back, talking for the first time that day.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic." She walks over to his side door and opens it, letting all the freezing air in. She rummages through the bag that hangs on her shoulder and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. She lights up then sits in the open doorway, her smoking stick outside.

"Why'd you start," he mumbles from underneath his blanket, half his face hidden by his pillow.

She shrugs, blowing a long stream of smoke out into the snow filled city. "I've smoked on and off since my mom died. Truth is, whenever it gets too much I do it."

"I'm sorry," he says too late as she stubs out her cigarette.

She stays looking outside, watching the snowflakes fall one by one. "You can't help who you love," she answers, her breath visible. She watches as that familiar blue bug drives past the house and then it clicks. "She came to see you yesterday." It's a statement not a question, because even if he denies it, she knows it's true.

"I sent it to her." She looks back at him, a little confused before motioning to the envelope she left at the foot of his bed. He sits up slowly to grab it, weighing it in his hands first. He opens the metal prongs and reaches inside, pulling out the thick piece of paper. He looks at it carefully, looking at every single detail for as long as he can.

It's separated into three boxes. The first is Brooke like he likes to see her. Smiling widely with two beautiful dimples in her cheeks. Her hair's in a loose ponytail, wearing a simple pair of jeans and a flowy top. The part that hurts is Brooke's abdomen. It looks like the ultrasound, the outline of their baby floating in gray. He's drawn in the corner of the box, only the back of his head and neck is visible. She's smiling at him and he can only think about how he'll give _anything_ to have her look at him like that again.

The next box is even more saddening. Brooke's hair is down and messy, her dimples replaced by streams of tears. Her clothes are baggy and her stomach is filled with nothing. Just emptiness. It doesn't even look like anything ever occupied it and it shouldn't be that way. There needs to be evidence, there needs to be proof so they can be allowed to grieve. He stands behind her in that picture and it sort of shocks him. There's bags under his eyes and he looks so damn tired. From what's drawn, his shoulders are hunched and his hair is going every which way. He doesn't look like that does he?

He moves to the final box and if he didn't feel like such a huge pile of shit he'd probably smile. Brooke's aged but only slightly. Her smile's not as wide as it is in the first box but her dimples are back. She looks healthy again and her hair is shorter and straight. The outline of her uterus can still be faintly seen underneath her clothes but he can't necessarily see what's inside, if there's anything at all. She's looking at him again and even he looks a lot better.

"What is all this," he asks the curly blonde. She rolls her eyes and just motions for him to look. Love In Time. Each word is written at the bottom on each box in faint curvy letters. He lets out a heavy sigh and then tosses the paper to the end of his bed. "Thanks." He sort of mumbles it and she watches as he scratches his head. He closes his eyes before getting up to pace. "Hey Peyt, do you mind? I kinda want to be alone."

"I didn't give you the picture to beat off to, but whatever. Just don't get it sticky. I worked hard on that," she teases, standing up and grabbing her bag.

"Peyton," he grumbles and she holds up her hands.

"I know. You need time to think. I get it." She's already halfway out the door when she says, "All in time Luke..."

* * *

Once the door shuts behind her, he covers his face with his hands. He loves the picture while it only reminds him of where he's at. He's done nothing but have Brooke yell at him or simply ignore him for so long now that it doesn't seem like they'll ever get out of this place. It hurts because he's done nothing to fix it. He's just been a stupid pussy hiding out behind everything. He's done all he's could. He tried blocking it out, tried pretending it didn't happen but he couldn't. Because he _knew_ it did and it meant too much to simply forget.

God, he was ready to give up everything for them, he truly was. He wanted to be with Brooke. To hold her, protect her, be the one she went to when she had a bad day. He wanted to be there to see his baby be born, wanted to love and cherish and raise it. He wanted to see Brooke's stomach grow large and tell her everyday that she was still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He wanted to see Brooke on the couch in her living room, holding their newborn baby. He wanted to see her in that motherly glow and speak in that soft can caring voice he knew she was capable of.

He lets out an angry groan and pounds his fist against his wall. All this thinking about what could have been and almost was was making him even more depressed than he already was. He rips off his thermal top and steps out of his pajama pants before grabbing a towel and walking across the hall to the bathroom. He turns the shower on to the hottest it can go before stepping in. He needed to block it out again, even if it were just for a moment. Because now, remembering is hurting just as much as blocking it out. He shuts his eyes tight and that's when he sees it, clear as day.

She sits next to Peyton in the quad, her brown hair framing her face. Her face is rounded and it makes her dimples pop out even more. She's wearing green sweater and dark wash jeans, her red backpack slung over one shoulder. Her make up is still in it's 'light' phase, just some lip gloss and light eye shadow. She's beautiful. Her laugh is infectious and even though he has no idea what's so funny he wants to go up and laugh with her. Peyton cracks a small smile at the joke and then looks up and locks eyes with him. He remembers looking away.

That was the first time he saw Brooke. It was on the fourth day of freshman year. He remembers the next time he got a really good look at her. It's sophomore year and Taylor invites -drags- him and Haley to a party. Brooke's shit-faced and when one of Taylor's football friends tries to grab her, he goes into defense mode. But, then he remembers they were from totally different groups and that he'll be pummeled if he tries to help. So he finds Peyton, who is fortunately sober, to get her out of groping hands way.

He remembers sitting on his bed a few months ago and watching Weird Science with her. She sits close to him, her legs curled up underneath her. They make jokes and he makes her dinner. She kisses him on the cheek before she leaves that night, thanking him for the first good time she'd had in a while.

He remembers the way her thumb felt when it rubbed his hairline in her car outside school. He remembers the first time he kissed her and he remembers the outline of her body and shape of her belly.

HIs eyes pop open quickly and he notices that his breathing has gotten heavier and his eyes are stinging. God, he misses her so much. But it's all ruined and she's gone along with their baby. It hits him just now that she's slipping away fast and he doesn't want it to happen. He wants these happy moments.

He wants them with her.

* * *

He walks up the steps he used to frequent when Haley had lived there. It's funny looking back on it now; Haley had only lived there for four months yet it seemed so much longer. When he gets to her doorstep, he stands there awkwardly, not sure what to do. Should he knock or just walk right in, if her door is open? Or should he use the spare key she had given him when he was going to move in that he never gave back? He lets his whole body relax, easing himself into doing this. He raises his fist and does the polite thing, knocking on the door.

He's honestly surprised when she opens the door so quickly. She looks equally shocked. "What're you doing here," she asks, closing the door a little so he can just see her. He stands there for a couple seconds, not too sure what he should say. In his head the talk went a lot differently. He imagined her slamming the door in his face or hitting him. But, he figures he's caught her totally off guard, giving him a slight advantage. He thinks.

"Um," he clears his throat and shoves his hands into his pockets, It's hard being so close to her. He wants to touch her, hold her, he wants _all_ of her. "I came here to apologize."

She rolls her eyes and rearranges the towel that's wrapped around her small frame. She'd ordered a pizza twenty minutes ago and she silently curses herself for assuming it was the pizza guy. "You shouldn't be here."

He shakes his head and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "But I **should**, you just wont let me." He keeps his voice soft and even because he doesn't want to yell at her. Neither one deserve it because it's neither of their faults. "I want to apologize," he repeats himself, this time a little more forceful with his words, just to let her know he means it.

She looks at him blankly. "For what?"

"For taking the the ultrasound and then sending it back like that. It wasn't fair to you." He's sounding forced, like a child who's only apologizing since his mother told him to. It's not coming out at all like he wants it to and it's evident when she snorts.

"Wasn't fair to me? NONE of this was fair to me! How could you be so heartless as to just take it?!" Her voice doesn't sound like it did last night. Then it was angry and loud but now, it sounds so damn sad that he can't remember why this was a good idea.

"I know," he says softly. "This should've never happened and I am truly sorry that it did but it's not my fault Brooke."

"Yes it is! ALL of this is your fault! You're the reason Peyton hates me, you're the reason I'm like this!" She almost mentions the baby, almost. She can't do it though because even though she spends hour upon hour staring at the ultrasound she refuses to admit that it really happened. That there was once something so... wonderful inside her that was simply expelled. "And god, you were just so fucking selfish!" She's standing so dejectedly in front of him, like she's just given up. She looks so tired, so depressed that he was to resist reaching out to touch her again.

"No! God no Brooke! I took the ultrasound to... protect you. I know that seems weird and stupid but I did what I thought was best. I thought that if maybe I removed it, it'd help it hurt a little less." He's dropped his voice to practically a whisper because he was never supposed to tell her any of this.

She lets out a snide laugh and opens the door a little wider. "That's the problem Lucas. It was removed." She closes the door in his face and when she lets go of the door knob, she realizes she's shaking. It's starting to hurt again, that ache in her heart that spreads through her whole body. She grits her teeth, forcing the pain to go away. She's been blocking it out ever since it happened because she refuses to cry again. If she cries then it means it happened and she's been doing a good job of pretending that it was just a dream.

On the other side of the door, Lucas stands there defeated. He's ruined this situation and he can't even fathom how to make it better. He shuffles down the steps, completely aware of the fact that that this was the closest they had come to actually talking about the baby. He gets to the bottom steps and the pizza boy starts his way up the stairs he's just descended. "Hey." He stops the boy who doesn't look much older than him. Lucas digs into his pockets and pulls out a twenty before dropping it on top of the red insulated container. "Does that cover her pizza?" The boys nods wearily and Lucas responds with a firm nod before walking to his car.

He opens the door he forgot to lock and looks back up at her apartment. He sighs and hopes that maybe that can at least be the first step towards showing her that he isn't the enemy.

* * *

Haley's stopped over again, busying herself by picking up the trash that litters the small living room and kitchen. Brooke sits motionless on the bright yellow couch, watching some telenovela that she got addicted to a little while after Haley had moved in. "How was California?" She tries to make small talk but it doesn't work. Brooke responds with a roll of her eyes and turns the volume up a little louder. Haley lets out a deep sigh and it irritates her. All Haley does now is sigh around her. Like she's so damn pathetic. "Brooke, I'm trying to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk," she says and now an irritated groan escapes her lips. "Can you _please_ stop doing that?" Haley looks up at her, shocked at the words that flowed out of her mouth.

"What?"

"Your sighs! Just stop it! That's all you do around me now," she tells her, wanting her anger to just bubble down. She's closed herself off from everyone but there are still times were she craves for another person to be with her, who knows what she's going through.

It comes out horribly angry and Haley's still staring at her blankly. She stands up straight, dropping the old pizza box back on the ground. "I don't want to be here. You like _this_, is horrible to watch." She's talking to Brooke so bluntly that it almost scares her. "But I'm here anyway because I care about you. Because I don't want to lose you in all this. But you have got to help me help you."

It comes out of her mouth without even realizing. "I don't want your help, nor do I need it. Just go away from me." It's the straw that breaks her back. She drops the trash bag in her hand, shaking her head, her face flushed with anger and her eyes filled with tears. She slams the door shut behind her and the vibrations hit Broke with full force. She's alone again and as much as Haley was starting to piss her off, she just wants her to come back.

* * *

She walks down the hallway Monday morning, her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She turns the corner so she can get away from the row of 'Scott' lockers, immediately hitting Nathan. "Jeez," she mumbles before looking up at his face.

"What the hell Brooke," he spits out angrily. Her face contorts in confusion but then her 'talk' with Haley a few days ago comes back to her. It explains everything, the look on his face, the way he stands, the sound of his voice. "Haley has done _everything_ for you! And you're just gonna fucking yell at her?"

She stands there, taking the yelling from him like she used to listen to one of her mother's rants. When he's done she clears her throat and brings her icy gaze up to his blue eyes that mirror his brother's. "You have no idea what you're talking about." He scoffs and she shakes her head disapprovingly. "She keeps pushing me Nathan and I can't take it."

"You can't take it? Fuck Brooke, I get that you're depressed and all that but do NOT yell at my wife for trying to help you!" She doesn't want to hear any of this because she knows if he lays into her long enough, she'll start feeling worse than she already does. She starts to walk away from him, mumbling that she has to go to class but he follows her. "Don't walk away from me Brooke. You know it's not right."

"Shut the fuck up Nathan," she yells over her shoulder, not caring that she just walked past her freshman English teacher.

"Brooke, I get that it's hard but you've got to open up." He's trying to keep his voice down since the student body is surrounding them and he knows Brooke doesn't want people knowing her business. He knows what that's like and _this_ isn't something everyone needs to know. She's walking faster, trying to get away from him and the words that are tearing into her. "Just FEEL something B!" He hasn't called her that in ages but it rolls off his tongue. It was used way back when they were younger, back during simpler times. Times where he wasn't married to Haley, Brooke was still bubbly, and Peyton was so much less emo.

It doesn't effect her though, not visibly at least because she simply flips him off and that's when he just breaks. He comes up and grabs her arm hard, turing her to face him.

"Nathan, let go of me," she mutters trying to pull her arm from his grasp.

"No Brooke. Not until you fucking snap out of this Peyton phase." She refuses to look at him, still pulling her arm away from him. He pulls her closer, trying to get her to just _look_ at him and see herself. That's when he notices her eyes watering. He loosens his grip, afraid he might actually be hurting her, but then he follows her eyes and he drops her arm completely. It's silent between them for a good two minutes and when he finally stops looking at Michelle with her newborn baby, he moves in front of Brooke's gaze.

She stares at his chest, not blinking or moving and he just doesn't know what to do. She can feel the water start to pour down her cheeks, the salty liquid drenching her pale face. She wants to stop watching her old friend with the small infant with the red peach fuzz on her head and wrapped in a soft pink blanket. She wants to go up to her and hold her, rock her back and forth and make her smile her gummy smile. Michelle walks past them, totally unaware of the broken girl breaking down on the other side of the hall and Brooke just can't hold it in. She lets out that first heart wrenching sob and Nathan moves forward, wrapping his arms around her, burying her face in his chest. She clutches on to the shiny white jersey, everything pouring out of her. All the built up emotion; the pain and sadness and regret. "It's all my fault Nate."

He buries her face into his shoulder and he whispers in to her ear, "No it's not."

"Yes it is," she responds, muffled by the clothing. "I wasn't good enough." His heart breaks when the words leave her mouth.

He hugs her tighter and rubs her back softly. "You are good enough Brooke."

"But I'm not," she cries, her tears soaking the mesh material of his shirt. "If I was I'd still have Peyton, and Haley, and you and Lucas! I'd still have my baby!" The hallway is empty now and he's glad because no one can hear her or see her other than him. He wishes that Haley would appear out of no where like she usually does because he doesn't know what to say other than she's enough.

But somehow, he knows it wont help.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey there all! Sorry for the wait on this one, I've been busy with school and oneshots lol. Not much to say about this chapter other than I hope y'all enjoy! Oh and I really hope I did the BP scene justice. Something similar happened between me and a few friends a couple weeks ago and it managed it fit semi perfectly with the story lol Thanks to Corey for looking over this for me and Enjoy!

* * *

She wakes up later, finding herself in her bed, the blinds half shut and the light off. Her pillow is wet and it's then that she remembers what happened. She remembers fighting with Nathan, seeing Michelle's baby, breaking down into nothing but sobs in the middle of the hallway. After that it's nothing but a messy blur and she slowly crawls out of bed.

She walks down the hallway, rubbing her cheeks to try and get rid of the slight stickiness her tears had left. "Hey." She looks up and sees Nathan holding a sandwich in one hand, a few chips in the other. She stares at him blankly, unsure what to do after her breakdown.

He pops the chips into his mouth and puts down his sandwich, brushing the crumbs off of his fingers onto the plate. He feels like he should ask how she's doing but he already knows. She lets out a heavy sigh and walks over to him, taking a bite of Nathan's sandwich and slumping down on the stool next to him. "Where'd you find food to make a sandwich?" She honestly can't remember the last time she went shopping for food.

"Haley brought over lots of food. You're making me go broke Davis."

She wants to smile at his words but it's still hurts too much. So, she just leans her head on his shoulder and keeps picking at the food on his plate. "I didn't mean to yell at her."

"I know," he replies, patting her hand softly.

* * *

It's raining, something that's very unusual for this time of year. Usually, it'd be snowing but it's been a little warmer lately. So water falls from the sky in huge drops, hitting the ground and changing its color. Brooke sits on the swing at the playground she used to frequent when she was younger. She closes her eyes and vividly remembers Peyton's curly head and scraped knees swing rapidly next to her. She herself is in pigtails that reach the top of her legs and she has a pink Band-Aid on her arm from the shot she got earlier that day. They both giggle uncontrollably and have bits of chocolate cookie smeared on their lips from the bag of oreos Brooke had snuck from her house.

She sighs and opens her eyes, Peyton standing in front of her. They stare at each other blankly before the blonde silently walks over and sits on the swing next to her. The rain starts to come down violently but neither move, instead just sway back and forth slowly. "I'm sorry," they both say it at the same time and if they hadn't then they probably wouldn't be looking at each other now. They both have apologies to make, some of which will be harder than others.

Peyton goes first. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, but it was hard ya know? You had already pushed me out of your life and then you tell me _that_? I could barely stomach any of it." She moves her legs a little, putting her in a slow steady swing. She doesn't look at Brooke, a little ashamed for waiting so long to tell her once best friend this.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Brooke whispers in the rain, tightening her grip around the linked chains. "I knew how much you like him and I couldn't believe I allowed myself to go that far." She hates that things have become so complicated. They're only seventeen. They shouldn't have to face these problems. She just wants to be the little girl who runs around with her best friend, cookie crumbs embedded in their lips, laughing. God she misses laughing. Especially with Peyton. In middle school they could lay on Peyton's bed and just laugh for _hours_ about nothing. She lets out a shaky sigh and Peyton digs her feet down into the wet wood chips and it's when the opposites look at each other. "I should've been a better friend to you."

Peyton lets out a laugh and Brooke's confused. "I was thinking the same thing," she says quietly. Brooke smiles sadly through tear filled eyes. "I love you Brookie." She gets up from her swing and stands in front of Brooke. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't tell me about Lucas and that I walked away from you when you needed me most."

Brooke nods and shuts her eyes too late because the tears have already started making their way down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry Peyton," she cries and Peyton's arms are wrapped around her as soon as the words leave her lips. Brooke wraps her arms around Peyton's waist tightly and sobs into her chest. She manages to tell the blonde more, more of what she's feeling but not the things she herself barely thinks about. She just cries about her parents, and about their broken friendship, and the loss that she's gone through.

She doesn't say it though. Won't say baby, not again, not now.

"I love you," Peyton repeats over and over, kissing the top of Brooke's head softly.

It's the only thing she can think of to try and make it better.

* * *

Lucas slumps down on the sofa next to Haley who's been uncharacteristically quiet. He watches as she bites her thumb nail, her other hand changing the channels with the remote she stole from him. "Hales," he says, concern almost evident in his voice. She looks up at him with a blank face, waiting for something more to come. "What's wrong?"

She says it quietly and simply with her chin ducked down against her chest. "Brooke." She considered lying, not sure if he was ready to handle anything regarding the brunette quite yet. She doesn't look at him, instead refocusses on the TV and he doesn't move at all. He's still facing her, not blinking and would probably be unresponsive if she tried talking to him.

"What's wrong with her," he stammers out, this time his words laced with worry. She sighs and turns off the tv before repositioning herself so she's facing him completely. She takes his hands in hers before looking up at him.

She shrugs halfly before taking a deep breath. "Nathan had a..." she trails off, trying to figure out how to phrase it, "a _talk_ with Brooke today." His face is confused and then worried and she smiles softly to try and calm him. "It was emotional and he had to take her home but he just text me and said she was fine."

She sees his back hunch slightly, his posture depleting. She knows that he knows Brooke's not fine. Because if it were, Haley wouldn't have been so quiet and she wouldn't have taken his hands in hers. He swallows hard and opens his mouth. "What happened?" Haley bites her lip, not wanting to explain what happened in that hallway at their school. "Haley," he pleads with her and s he shakes her head.

"She saw a friend today," she starts, choosing to leave out the fact that Nathan yelled at Brooke, "with her newborn."

His jaw tightens and his eyes stay open, never once blinking. He swallows hard and she fells him tighten his grip on her hands slightly. "Is she okay," he asks quietly and she tosses her head from side to side.

"As much as she can be." He nods and drops her hands. He wants to see her, see if she's really okay. He needs to take care of her but knows that he can't. So he paces back and forth, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

"Have you seen her yet?" She shakes her head and locks eyes with him, the blue bleeding with confusion and love. She knows what he's going to ask even before he says it. "Will you?" She stands up, still leaving him answer less. She wraps her arms around her best friend tightly. "She has to be okay hales," he whispers and she nods.

"She's getting to that point Luke. She's working on becoming better... it just takes some time." She moves and takes his face in her hands. "This is good," she manages to get out, praying that her words were true. "This is a step in the right direction." She doesn't make any empty promises because she knows it'll only hurt more when it doesn't come true.

* * *

Brooke walks back into the apartment, alone once more, and looks at the empty space. It's clean now, thanks to either Nathan or Haley, but it looks almost like a show home. Everything seemingly perfect and in its place. It reminds her of her parents.

She sighs and locks the door behind her, still sliding that metal chain into its clasp. She needs to keep everything locked out, at least at night. Because at night, her own demons come out and the horrid nightmares she can't escape play in her mind. She can't deal with everyone else at night, not when she can't block out the memories that can't be erased.

Tonight's a little different though. Tonight she isn't numb. She is forced to feel everything she's repressed for the past couple months. She doesn't want to feel the pain but too much has happened today for her to try and pretend. The tears start falling one by one for the third time that day. Her mind, body, and soul aches and it's becoming hard for her to breathe. She begins shaking and in one swoop, she's on the floor, sobbing into her wet clothes. She feels even worse than she did before and she wants so badly to return to the complete darkness that had once enveloped her. It'll hurt less than it does now.

* * *

He walks up the wooden steps, paying no attention to the rain that falls from the sky. Haley had called him a few hours ago to tell him that Brooke wasn't home when she stopped by but that she left a note and was going over first thing in the morning. That isn't good enough for him though. He needs to make sure she's still alive and doing the best she can.

One light is on, very dim through the window. He peers in slightly, looking for the girl he was once so close to. He doesn't see her, but he knows she's there, he can feel it. He doesn't knock though. Doesn't say a word because he doesn't know how to act or what to say to her any way. So he just slumps down on her porch, his back against the wooden red door.

He lets out a heavy breath and before he realizes it, tears start making trails down his face. They fall at a slow rate, just a small little fraction of the amount of tears he knows he could cry; the amount of tears he wants to cry. He hates that he's so chicken shit now but he can't help it. The last couple times he's talked to Brooke haven't ended well and now that she seems to be letting it out, he doesn't know what else to expect.

And for now, possibly for always, all he has is his memories with her. He has no mementos, no items that we're specifically shared between them. Just the memories that bring so much joy and pain to his life.

So he sits, just like Brooke, against the door that separates everything they were and everything they can be.

* * *

He walks through the hallways of Tree Hill High, hating the fact that science was his next form of torture. Today is simply not the day for him to do anything. He just wants to go back home and try and catch up on the sleep he lost because he was stilling on his ex... whatever's porch.

But then he sees her at the end of the hall, walking in his direction and his breath hitches in his throat. He continues walking, trying not to stare and he almost falls over when he hears the quietest "Hey Luke" over the sound of the busy hallway as she walks past him.

He turns around, hoping that she's stopped and is waiting for him but she's not. She doesn't even look back, just keeps walking and he wonders for a second if she really said it.

But when Haley walks up to her, concern written all over her face, glancing over at him before looking back at Brooke, he knows she did.


	4. Chapter 4

Hey all! So I have good news and bad news. Good news: Look! An update! Bad News: It's the last chapter. I really thought I was going to write this one and one more but when I read over what I had it just seemed to fit. I'm not going to say much in this author's note cause I'll probably be posting a longer one later today. I do however apologize for the length of this chapter. It's not very long but hopefully y'all enjoy!

Haley's forcing him to stop by. Not to say that he doesn't want to, he just doesn't think Brooke would like him to. They'd gotten better around each other, still not great, probably not even good, but still better than what they've been. "She'll appreciate it and so will I," Haley had said. She and Nathan were going out of town to visit Deb and Peyton was off with her dad, leaving him 'in charge' of Brooke, courtesy of Haley and Peyton.

So he shook away all of his anxiety and knocked on the door, tightening his grip on the plastic bags in his free hand. Seconds later Brooke opens the door and he can't stop himself from smiling. She's been looking a lot better lately. She's not as pale and she looks well rested. And no matter how rare it may be, he's seen a smile on her lips since she opened up to Nathan.

"Hey Luke." It falls from her lips naturally, like she's forgotten they weren't technically friends.

"Haley wanted me to stop by. Told me to bring food so," he mumbles, holding up the bags he brought with him. She nods and lets him in, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear in the process. He drops the bags down on the island in the kitchen and begins to take out numerous products. "You still like the pickle flavored chips right?" Her jaws tightens when he asks and she shuts her eyes, hoping he wont continue.

He notices her silence and he silently curses himself for his stupidity. She had talked about wanting some the morning she miscarried. He tries to mutter a decent response and he looks up to see her shaking her head. "It's okay Luke." It's not and he knows it, he can tell by the way her voice nearly cracks. She nods slightly before continuing. "And I do like them."

The silence that envelops them is awkward and they simply move around each other, putting the groceries away. When they're done and have nothing left to busy themselves with, he stares at her. He wants to talk about it, needs to talk about it with her. They can try as they might to work past this individually, but he knows it wont help. Only they have experienced this first hand and only they can truly understand what the other is going through. "I'm sorry," he says simply and she begins to shake her head, her grown out bangs swishing from side to side.

"Please don't Lucas," she pleads with him. She doesn't want to cry anymore. She doesn't want to talk about it with him, because then she wont be able to hold on to the brave facade she's been able to put on the past few weeks. She closes into herself, puts her hands into fists and wraps her arms around herself. She prays that he'll just stop and go so that she can do SOMETHING to take her mind off of him and them and _it_.

"Brooke," he says softly and she shakes her head again. She closes her eyes tight and he can see tears pool at the edge of her eyes. "We have to talk about it."

"No we don't," she breathes out, backing up until her back hits the counter. She needs to get away from him now. It's hurting a lot more and she's starting to feel worse than when she saw Michelle. She can not talk about it with him because she doesn't know if she'll ever be okay after she does.

"We were going to have a baby," he whispers helplessly as he watches her cover her ears, tears streaming down her face. He needs to comfort her. He's hurting her by bringing this up and seeing her cry is the most heartbreaking thing for him to see. Tears shouldn't be allowed on her face, and he especially shouldn't be the one to put them there. But keeping all of his feelings locked inside has made _him_ cry and just like Brooke, he doesn't want to do that anymore. It's a double-edged sword that he's playing with and he prays it's worth the risk.

"Don't call it that," she tries to scream. The words come out strangled because she's slowly losing control. Tears are coming down her cheeks at rapid rates now, meeting at her chin before dropping down to her shirt.

"I can't pretend it didn't happen Brooke." He walks closer to her now, slowly, cautiously, and watches as she tries to stay as composed as she can.

"I don't want to talk about it," she screams at him, opening her crying eyes to look him straight in the eyes. Her words are clear and crisp, causing him to pause and stay back.

"Why not," he asks her, his voice loud but he's not yelling.

"Because then you'll realize it's my fault!" The words push him back, his eyes wide and it's obvious he's shocked. She's crying harder than ever before and she knows that it'll be a miracle if she stops crying.

"What," he asks her, flabbergasted at the sentence that left her mouth. She stays silent, just stands there and cries and that's when he walks up to her. "What do you mean," he asks her again and she keeps her head down.

"My body wasn't good enough! I wasn't good enough! I'm the reason your life is miserable and the reason we don't have a baby! This _whole_ thing is my fault!" She crumbles in front of him and he grabs on to her arms when her knees begin to buckle. She still slides to the floor despite his support and its nothing but a blurry mess. He still has her arms in his hands and he sits directly in front of her, his legs on either side of hers. Words swirl around in his head but he doubts that they'll make a difference if said. But he needs to say something to make this right.

"It's not your fault Brooke. This is _no ones _fault." He's crying too now and it's a horrible scene to watch. The two teens losing all control over something they never had control over to begin with. Her shoulders are shaking with each sob and he moves the hair that has been working as a shield for her back. He gets her to move her head up just a little bit but she still wont look at him. Her gaze is on the ground and that's when it all just pours out. "God Brooke. I love you _so much_. You shouldn't feel this way at all. I'm so sorry."

She looks up at him, meeting his blue eyes that are crying huge tears for what they've lost. She looks at him in a little disbelief because for the first time, she's seeing just how much its hurt him too. How he carries the weight of their grief around with him everyday and that he hasn't moved past it like she had once thought. His words tear into her because it's also just hitting her that he wasn't just with her because of their baby. That when he mentioned their future all those months ago, he didn't simply mean the future of their baby, but their future _together_.

He hangs his head in front of her, letting out the tears that only Haley has seen on one occasion. She wants to apologize even more because this still seems like one huge mess but there are no words that can make this better. All they need is each other to make everything better. "Lucas," she whispers through her tears, lifting her hands to touch his face. She uses her thumbs to wipe away the tears that don't seem like they'll stop and he wraps his hands around her small wrists.

They lock eyes and it's like an understanding between the two. Nothing's fixed, nothing's better, but it's a start. It's more than the short vague conversations they've exchanged the past month and it's marking the beginning of everything.

He pulls her closer to him, wraps his arms around her, holding and comforting her like he's wanted to ever since it happened. Ever since their baby died. She grabs on to his shirt, crying even more, only this time some of her tears weren't for the pain. They were for him and the fact that he was there, holding her which is what she never thought she wanted.

--

* * *

Her back arches and he slowly, gently, drags his fingertips across the bare skin of her stomach. He's scared to touch her again, even though everything inside of him wants to touch _all_ of her. Touching her is what started this; being allowed to have her. His fingers outline her bellybutton and then traces an imaginary trail up her stomach and between her breasts. Her hands never leave his arms, running her nails softly up and down the warm skin. Her eyes never leave his face and his never leave her stomach. It hurts a little, seeing her stomach deflated when the last time he saw it, it was rounded slightly because of their baby.

His hand makes it way back down to her stomach and lets it lie there, his palm flush against her milky skin. He smiles sadly and Brooke gently puts her small hand over his. He looks up at her and sees the same dejected expression on her face. "We're going to be okay," he whispers, her eyes disappearing from his stare. She lets out a deep breath and opens her eyes to meet his blue.

She nods.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello everyone! This was the first sequel I've ever made and really, I'm truly sad to see it end. This story brought out the best angst in me and I have enjoyed writing it ( I think it may just replace 'The One You Love...' as my favorite story lol). And I'm using this time, not only to add a so called 'fifth chapter' to my story because I have a weird OCD thing about ending my stories on good solid numbers, but also to thank you all for reading both this story and Nine Crimes.

First off I really must thank my friend Amanda. Without her dream, there never would've been a Nine Crimes meaning there would also be no Beauty From Pain.

Secondly, Lynn. Lynn you are a wonderfully fantastic person and you probably don't even realize how much you've helped and inspired me with this story. I've made you many a promises but there is one that even though it seems impossible for me to keep, I'm POSITIVE it will happen (I'm being hella cryptic so kudos if you know what I'm talking about lol). I'm so glad I got to know you and you really have helped me through a lot. I love you with all my heart.

Next up is Emma. Just cause you're uberly awesome and literally me. We are way too much the same person for our own good lol. Love ya hun.

Corey, you're awesome. I've told you that many a times before and I swear you're my muse. Thanks a billion for helping me with the last chapter. Your craziness matches mine ; )

Shaz, I think you've been with me the longest, ever since the 911 board. You are my pimp and my go to girl for art. Your reviews are love and we definitely need to start conversing more! lol

To everyone one else who's reviewed either story: you guys make my life. Each and every one of your words make me smile each time I read your words. You can bring me out of some of my darkest days just by letting me know what you think. I love all of you!

Now I really hope you all have understood this story and the path that the characters have gone down. Beauty has risen from their pain and all will be well, just as it will happen on the show :)

Thank you all,

Cheyenne


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